Shadows Only Faded
by previouslyjade
Summary: Two years on, the Second Wizarding War seems like a distant memory to the former members of Dumbledore's Army. But with a long-buried secret now stirring in the shadows, what hangs in the balance is not only Ron and Hermione's relationship, but the fate of the entire wizarding world. Post DH, non-epilogue compliant
1. News From Abroad

Chapter 1. News from Abroad

_Disclaimer:  
><em>_ME: Harrium Potterum non possideo  
><em>_DEMENTOR [Threateningly]: Ahem  
><em>_ME: Oh, right, I have to speak English…Well then, I don't own Harry Potter. Happy?  
><em>_DEMENTOR: [Glares]_

_A/N. I'm not quite sure what to say here, except that it's my first attempt at a long Harry Potter fic (how long, I'm not sure yet)...so we'll see how this goes. Hopefully there are no glaring errors, though as you will see I have my own idea of what the "trio" (and other characters) did after Hogwarts. Also, updates will probably be sporadic - I am writing another long fic at the moment, "Out of the Woods," which is a LOTR fic...so it's going to have to be a bit of a balancing act between the two as far as updates are concerned, I'm afraid. _

_Without further ado - on with the story, and I hope you enjoy...and review._

* * *

><p>In comparison to hunting Horcruxes, Harry and Ron both agreed, Auror training was a walk in the park. It was true that they were taxed daily to the limits of their physical and mental endurance, and had to learn and memorise large quantities of technical information with which even Hermione would have struggled; but at least they had three good meals a day, and a comfortable place to stay in the evenings.<p>

Harry and Ron, along with Neville Longbottom, rented a small apartment in a suburb of Muggle London. Here they had a telephone, and could receive letters the Muggle way, but they also had a wizarding Floo. Charlie and George had helped them install it when they moved in, as it was more convenient than constantly having to Apparate into busy Whitehall without being seen by Muggles.

Training was six days a week, but on the seventh Harry and Ron would invariably Floo to the Weasley abode, where Mrs Weasley would fuss over them and worry that they weren't feeding themselves properly, and Mr Weasley enquire excitedly about the nature of "fast food" and "MacDonald's"…and no, unlike a chocolate frog (Harry had to explain), fast food isn't called fast because it tries to run away from you….

And every second week without fail, there was a letter from Hermione for the three of them, telling them all the news, and often, separate little notes for Harry and Ron. Then, every other week, Ron, Harry and Neville would all put their letters into a single envelope addressed to Miss Hermione Granger, Canberra, Australia, etc. and Harry would send it off, Muggle-style.

Her latest letter ran as follows:

_Dear Harry, Ron and Neville,_

_Auror training sounds as interesting as ever – you know I love to hear about everything that you are learning. I almost wish I were doing it with you, only I am enjoying my Law degree very much (and one gets to hear a bit about politics, which is frankly intriguing), and I will never regret staying with my parents in Australia. It has been nice to be with them again for a year or so after all the time the war and attending Hogwarts took from us. _

_Besides, it isn't just my studies that are occupying me right now. I think that one of the guys doing first year law along with me might be a wizard. He's rather aloof and doesn't seem to have any friends, and I haven't actually spoken to him, only watched him from a distance. It's just something in the way he behaves, as if he's used to wearing robes and carrying a wand, and I have a sort of instinct that he's under a Glamour charm. Of course I'd be able to tell for sure if only I didn't have to keep my wand hidden all the time on campus. I carry it in that old beaded bag of mine, so if there's a real emergency I can use it._

_Anyway, that's my bit of news for this time. I honestly can't think of anything else to tell you except that it's terribly hot here at the moment, and I'm quite jealous of all of you who are getting snowed under back in England. _

_Love,_

_Hermione. _

Harry folded the letter and looked across at Ron, apprehensively. He and Neville both knew how jealous the redhead could get – but Ron looked surprisingly unpeturbed. It seemed that Auror training and getting older had made him less anxious and insecure.

Well, that could only be a good thing, and if Ron wasn't bothering his head about mysterious wizards, then Harry certainly wasn't going to. But a nagging sense of uneasiness that had nothing to do with jealousy remained at the back of his mind nonetheless.

When he wrote back to Hermione the following week, he added a postscript: _Take care – I know you always do, but we can't guard each other's backs when we're so far apart – not anymore._

* * *

><p>Hermione would have loved the unit on <em>Stealth and Tracking<em> that was an essential part of the Auror training programme, Ron thought as he moved as silently as he could through the forest. He felt completely alone, though he knew that the other second-year Aurors would be moving as silently as he through the wood, parallel to him, though unseen….

With a jolt of horror, he realized that there was a wand pressed to his throat. (_Okay, _more_ silently than me…._) The wood was cool and hard, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that it was a rich brown. _Walnut. Bellatrix Lestrange's wand was made of walnut. _Funny how one thought the most illogical things at a moment of crisis.

Then his captor laughed.

"Bet I freaked you out that time, Ronald!"

"It's_ Ron_," he corrected, relief washing over him in a warm wave. For a moment he had been caught up in reliving past terrors, but the familiar voice brought him back to the present. Emily Linderson – he seemed to remember that she had been in Ravenclaw, but graduated a year before him. What she had done during that hellish year when Ron was busy hunting Horcruxes and… he stopped the thought, still ashamed of the memory of his desertion – Ron did not know, but after the war she had decided to train as an Auror.

She was pretty, he supposed, with that part of his mind that wasn't still reduced to jelly with shock – long golden-brown hair and sea-grey eyes. Then, as he recovered his wits fully, he remembered Hermione and stopped that thought too.

He still missed Hermione a lot even though they hadn't seen each other for over a year.

"This unit is honestly _so _boring," Emily continued. "I can't wait to do _Potions and Toxins _next semester."

Ron winced, remembering the traumas he and Harry had endured under Professor Snape. Though Snape was now a war hero, Ron didn't think that made any difference to the fact that he'd been a terrible teacher. Try telling that to Harry, though, he'd go berserk…. Yep, Harry definitely still had a grief/guilt complex.

Emily was looking at him with a rather knowing smile. "Snape?" she guessed.

Ron raised an eyebrow at the acuteness of the guess, then grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"Oh, come on, Ron, everyone knew what he was like. I went to Hogwarts too, though I was pretty good at Potions, so he wasn't as bad with me. He was so mean to some of my friends, though…."

"Who?"

"Oh…Cho, and Marietta – _particularly _Marietta – she quit Potions after sixth year, just couldn't cope with his bullying…."

"That's sad for her," said Ron, only half meaning it. He remembered how Marietta had betrayed the DA to Umbridge in their fifth year. _I wonder if she still has pustules…. _If there was one thing he and Harry had learnt, it was that pretty, loveable Cho Chang was not a good judge of people.

"Ravenclaws are supposed to be wise," said Emily as though she had read his mind. "But a lot of the time we aren't, really."

Shocked, Ron glanced up and saw that her pale face with its intense eyes was very close to his own. He flushed a burning scarlet, desperately holding onto the memory of Hermione in his mind. The memory paled and slipped away.

Desperate, Ron scrambled backwards, muttering a hasty farewell: "Um, I think we ought to get back to what we're supposed to be doing…."

He didn't look at her sea-grey eyes again, though he smiled and waved in her general direction as he headed off. So he missed the kindling flame that rose behind those eyes, and the blush that rose on her cheek, as Emily Linderson muttered something soft and secret into her cupped hands.

* * *

><p>"Did you know that Lucius Malfoy has left England?" Neville stamped the snow from his boots and shook himself like a polar bear. He'd been out buying groceries (the three of them took it in turns, though Ron had managed several times to wheedle the good-natured Neville into taking his turn for him), had met Seamus Finnigan on the way and stopped to talk.<p>

"What?" Ron looked up from a pile of Quidditch magazines.

"Why?" exclaimed Harry, from where he sat at the kitchen table, writing to Ginny, who was playing Quidditch in France. "What about his family? Surely he took them as well?"

"Apparently not. He left them behind, along with a number of…very cryptic papers, or so Seamus told me. The Ministry have seized them and are trying to make sense of them, but with not much success."

"I don't like the sound of that," Harry stated. "When did we know the Ministry to do anything but make a huge mess of things?"

"Yes, but they've got Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister now," pointed out Neville reasonably.

"Yeah, doesn't make his underlings any more competent…."

"But you aren't going to do anything rash, are you, Harry?" implored Neville.

Harry laughed a slightly bitter laugh.

"No, of course not. _That _would have quite…interesting consequences – probably suspended from the Auror training programme; public scandal over the misdeeds of the Boy Who Lived…quite enough to make my life hell for the next few _decades._"

"You're being dramatic," Neville pointed out.

"Yes, I am," snapped Harry. "Because, after nearly two years, my every move is still being watched by the press. I can't go out for a _walk _without being swamped by fangirls and paparazzi…."

"Unless you apply a Notice-Me-Not charm," interrupted Neville.

"Yeah, all right," Harry admitted. "I _have _become pretty good at those – I suppose it should come in handy when we do the unit on _Disguise _next year."

* * *

><p>Ron, staring unseeingly at his magazines, wasn't listening to their conversation. He couldn't stop thinking about Emily Linderson, while Hermione had faded to a shadow at the edges of his mind. He tried to get rid of the unwelcome presence, the golden-brown hair and beautiful eyes, but it was there, in his mind, and his will was not strong enough to shove it out.<p>

So, in the end, he stopped resisting.

_A/N. So, what did you think? Believe it or not, there were a couple of fairly major clues hidden in that chapter, along with a red herring or two...I'd like to hear your thoughts as to where you think this will go. Please review, and tell me what you like about this chapter (if anything), and what could be improved...and what you think of my OC character (she's there for a reason, I promise!). I would also particularly like to know if my canon characters seem in-character enough, or if they're too OOC - your feedback would help me a lot as I continue the story. _

_I would like to be able to promise that the chapters will be longer from now on, however I'm worried I might end up breaking that promise. But I will do my best!_

_Next chapter: Hermione meets Lucius Malfoy_


	2. Small Talk

Chapter 2. Small Talk

_Disclaimer:_

_DEMENTOR [plaintively]: I'm hungry.  
><em>_ME [hastily]: I don't own Harry Potter….  
><em>_DEMENTOR [miserably]: See my problem? All the fanfiction writers are doing everything right these days, and I don't have any souls to eat…._

_A/N. Just to clarify: this is not a Ron-bashing fic. There is a reason for his seeming a bit one-dimensional and OOC at the moment._

* * *

><p>If she never had to experience an Australian February again, Hermione thought, then she would not be disappointed at all. It had been hot and humid for most of the month (except when it stormed – and then they'd had a fire scare when there were several lightning strikes nearby); and altogether, Hermione was glad that summer was at an end.<p>

Today, however, the heat was still oppressive as she stepped off the bus and walked along the street to her parents' house. It was around four-thirty in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, which had been long and tiring, and Hermione stumbled a little over the kerb with weariness.

She must be a little dehydrated, for she was slightly dizzy. And she definitely shouldn't have worn black – the worst colour for a sunny day.

The dizziness was worse. When was the last time she'd had a glass of water? It had been early in the morning, before she'd missed her bus (she didn't dare Apparate for fear of drawing attention to herself), and had been late to her lecture, and then had to rush off to another lecture, and then to her part-time job at a Muggle café….

What was wrong with her? The dizziness had intensified to a buzzing grey-and-brown haze that completely obscured her vision. She staggered, disoriented.

That was when she felt a cold hand cupping her elbow, steadying her until the dizziness passed and she could see again.

Turning round, she looked straight into the cool grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes narrowed instantly with distrust and a certain amount of fear. "What do you want?" she asked roughly, not caring about the discourtesy of the question.

"You appeared sick, and I realized that you might collapse if I did not come to your aid," he replied, though an edge of irritation was creeping into his voice. "I did not know who you were at first. You are much changed, Miss Granger."

"_Miss Granger, Miss Granger," _repeated Hermione disbelievingly. "What happened to 'mudblood'?"

"The world has changed," replied the elder Malfoy coldly. "The Dark Lord's time is forever over, and I see no point in clinging to old grudges. You think too highly of yourself if you really believe my presence in Australia to have anything to do with you."

Hermione was instantly alert. "Then why?"

Cold silver eyes met her brown ones a second time. "That – _mudblood_ – is none of your concern."

Deliberately, he stepped past her, leaving her staring at his retreating back, angry, but even more puzzled.

That night, after dinner, she retreated to her room and drafted a letter to her friends back in England.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Ron, Harry and Neville,<em>

_Guess whom I met today?_

_Actually, it's rather more serious than that. Did you know that Lucius Malfoy is now in Australia?_

_In any case, I met him just this afternoon, walking up our street. He was quite polite, and called me Miss Granger – at least at first, until I pestered him about what he was doing here. Of course he refused to tell me anything, only insulted me, which – before you get all protective, Ron – didn't bother me at all. Of course he would insult me, he's a Malfoy and I'm a Granger. So don't bother your overprotective head about it, please._

_Rather, I think the question that needs to be answered is: Was he being secretive because he just didn't like me, or because he actually had something to hide? Have you heard anything, back in England, but just haven't mentioned it to me?_

_No update on my wizard friend, if you can call him that – I was planning on talking to him, but never got around to it. I'm extremely busy, working part-time as well as going to lectures._

_It's still horribly hot here – and the strangest thing is, Crookshanks loves it! He was lying in the sun the other day. In the _sun_, I ask you, when it was forty degrees outside…._

_My parents send their regards to the three of you, and also to Mr and Mrs Weasley, so Ron, you'll have to pass on the message. _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Actually I _did_ find out something – his name. Julian Kay. It doesn't sound like the name a wizard would have, which is discouraging, but you never know…._

Harry finished reading the letter, and, looking up, met Neville's worried eyes. There was a pregnant pause.

"Fishy," said Harry at length.

"I wonder if it has anything to do with that student whom she thinks is a wizard," said Neville. "Maybe he's someone who fell foul of Voldemort and went to Australia to lie low."

"Yes, but the Malfoys are such cowards, Lucius wouldn't dare do anything that might put him firmly back under the heading "War Criminal"…even if you discount the fact that they changed sides at the end of the war."

"I'm not so sure," said Neville. "I suspect that the elder Malfoy is made of tougher stuff than the younger one. We need to warn Hermione to be careful."

"Like she needs telling that," Harry snorted.

"I suppose not," admitted Neville. "You and Ron were always the reckless ones."

"Wait…was someone talking to me?" interrupted Ron, looking up from the parchment he'd been frantically scribbling on, and giving the pair a confused stare. It was evident that he hadn't heard a word. Harry was annoyed.

"At precisely what point did you tune out?"

Ron gave him a blank look.

"We were reading the letter from Hermione, and she told us she'd met Lucius Malfoy in Australia," Neville prompted him.

Ron's jaw dropped. "That psychopath? He's there? Hermione's in danger, we have to do something!"

"I wouldn't call Lucius Malfoy a psychopath – " began Neville, just as Harry started to say, "That's exactly what we were saying – " and they both stopped, discomfited. Then Harry sighed and handed the letter to Ron. "Read it for yourself."

"Is that the essay we have to do?" Neville added, coming over to inspect the piece of parchment Ron had been so intent on.

"It's not an essay," muttered Ron, hastily folding it and stuffing it into his pocket. "I'm going to bed."

Harry thought he'd caught a brief glimpse of the name _Emily Linderson _on the piece of parchment Ron was so eager to hide. It was the name of a very pretty young trainee in the Auror programme. Back at Hogwarts, she'd been one of the number of giggling Ravenclaw girls who had so exasperated him in his courtship of Cho Chang. But why ever would Ron be writing about (or to) her?

Harry yawned. Beside him, Neville yawned too.

"Perhaps we should all go to bed," remarked Neville.

But though Harry dropped off to sleep easily enough, his dreams were troubled. Lucius Malfoy seemed to conflate in his head with a giant spider, which he had to fight alone, as Ron had run away screaming at the first sight of its great hairy body.

Not all that far away, Emily Linderson perused Ron's letter with a secret smile.

* * *

><p>When Hermione had awoken the next morning, unrefreshed and sweaty after an unpleasantly warm night, she had been inclined to think that her meeting with Lucius Malfoy had been a dream; but a glance at the letter she had written the night before had effectively quenched that hope. But the days had gone by, the heat wave had subsided, and she had neither seen him a second time, nor heard any news of him. No news was good news as far as a former Death Eater was concerned, and the suspicions that his appearance had caused slowly crawled back to sleep in the darker recesses of her mind.<p>

Hermione was bored. It had been a long time since she had practiced any significant magic, though she used it at home to wash the dishes and clean the floor, or otherwise save herself and her parents time and bother. Her law degree, which had satisfied the cravings of her intellect for the first few months, no longer seemed so interesting.

Ron had been right, she thought with an ironic smile – it had been pointless to migrate halfway across the world "just to rediscover her inner Muggle". She should have just brought her parents back to England.

Ron. Another reason why she shouldn't have come here. She missed him.

Missed him so much that it kept her awake at night; that sometimes she would get out a pen and paper at two in the morning and draft off letters to him that she had no intention of sending….

Of course, what with the law degree and her job, she was usually awake till two in the morning anyway.

But recently she had begun to hope that wizarding company might be as near as in the same lecture room – no replacement for Ron, of course, but maybe (if he was a competent wizard) at least someone to discuss spells and have mock duels with.

But first she had to trap him into admitting it, without possibly exposing herself if she was wrong about him. She made herself a cup of tea, and sat down to think. At the end of half an hour, she sprang to her feet again.

"I've got a plan," she announced to Crookshanks, and in her glee even omitted to scold him for the large dead mouse he had brought inside through the cat flap.

* * *

><p>Julian Kay sat at lunchtimes in the dimmest back corner of the university café, shielded from view by a lurid red partition. The other students shunned the morose young man, congregating instead in the bright interior of the café or in the sunshine outside when the weather was fair but not too hot.<p>

So no one noticed when the slim, bushy-haired young woman stole up on him from behind, and said quietly,

"Furnunculus."

Julian started violently and whipped round. Within a split-second, Hermione found herself pinned up against the wall with a wand to her throat. She smiled.

"Calm down, I wasn't trying to curse you. So you _are _a wizard. You kept the secret very well."

If anything, this made Julian even more agitated.

"What do you want?" he snarled, fear and rage manifesting themselves on his normally quiet and reserved countenance. "I won't be blackmailed into anything, and I know more spells than you've bargained for."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Julian raised a finger. "I already cast a Silencing Charm. No one will hear you if you scream."

"I wasn't going to scream." Hermione's voice was strong, and took her captor by surprise. "I don't know what you're afraid of, but I was only curious to see if you were what I had suspected. Being the only witch within a thousand miles" (her voice softened with a touch of vulnerability) "gets rather lonely sometimes."

Abashed, he lowered his wand, though he still eyed her warily. Wincing, Hermione rubbed the sore spot on her throat.

"I apologise," Julian said at length. "I mistook you for someone else."

Though burning with curiosity as to who the "someone else" was, Hermione knew better than to ask straight out. Instead, she sat down opposite her companion and leaned forward with her elbows on the little table.

"What do you know about me?" she asked him.

"Only your name, and that you are from England, but that you live with your parents not far from here."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

Baffled, Hermione changed her tactic. "What do you know about the Second Wizarding War?"

Julian's expression was unreadable, but his right hand moved unconsciously to rub at his left forearm. Hermione noticed the movement with a growing sense of alarm.

"Julian," she said suddenly, "What is beneath the Glamour Charm you're wearing?" He made as if to move away from her, but she made a wild snatch and caught his sleeve.

The horror written all over his features as she grabbed his arm said it all.

* * *

><p><em>AN. Well, that was a little bit longer, though not much... Please, please review if you've got time, and tell me what you think of this story!_

_Next chapter: The intrigue thickens, and Ron does something rash..._


	3. Marked

Chapter 3. Marked

**REVISED! Major plot hole fixed! :P**

_Disclaimer:  
><em>_ME: I don't own Harry Potter and the wizarding world, only this one annoying Dementor….  
><em>_DEMENTOR: You're the one that's annoying…._

_A/N. Thank you to whatweareafraidof for reviewing. Nice to know someone has read this! As to Ron playing a major part in the story...I don't know. He will definitely appear a lot but I'm not sure how much the action is going to focus on him. But I'll do my best! :)_

**_Warning – one little swear word in this chapter, this story is rated T so I'm allowed to, but I do try to keep to the Queen's English most of the time._**

_Also, I know I promised to have a confrontation between Harry and Ron here, but when I came to write this chapter I decided that it would flow better if I put it in the next chapter. Sorry! To be honest, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I wanted to get it posted. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"You're a Death Eater, aren't you?" Hermione accused, after a moment of shocked silence. Julian Kay hesitated, his eyes darting around the café, searching for a way out.<p>

"Look," he said at last, "it isn't what you think. I can explain."

"Fair enough," said Hermione. "Sit down here and explain, then."

"I have a lecture to go to," he protested, but in vain. From the steely glint in Hermione's eyes, it was clear that she wasn't going to let him go so easily.

"You're lying," she said flatly. "You're just desperate to get away from me. And you _do _know who I am, don't you? Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's friend. I fought against you in the Battle, and you should be in Azkaban for your crimes right now."

A hint of real panic flittered across the young man's face. It suited him ill – his was a handsome, chiselled countenance – quiet and studious-looking, but nonetheless used to being in control. Something about the mouth and eyes reminded Hermione of someone – she just couldn't remember whom.

He reached for his wand, and for a moment Hermione thought he was going to curse her, but instead he put it into her hand. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around it, confused.

"Take my wand, and give it back to me once I have explained everything to you," he said quietly, but his voice rippled with suppressed tension. "Now let me go to that bloody lecture!"

Hermione considered, his wand lying in her hand. He had offered his wand as a surety that he _would, _at some point, explain himself to her. She was within her rights to take it. But then she remembered his fear when she had crept up on him – how he was afraid of a mysterious person whom he had mistaken her for. If he _was_ in danger, then she would have deprived him of his only protection. No, she couldn't do that.

She handed the wand back. "There is no need for this," she said gently. "No wizard should be without their wand." Her voice hardened into steel. "Don't betray my trust."

She had expected him to wince, to look away abashed, but Julian Kay met her gaze and held it for a long moment. Then he gave a little nod, and taking back his wand, strode swiftly from the café and out of sight.

Hermione's hands were shaking. She walked to the counter and ordered a cappuccino.

* * *

><p>Under the rule of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Ministry was a much better institution to the one it had been during the war. Where before it had been inefficient, indiscreet and riddled with corruption, it was now the most renowned Ministry for Magic anywhere in the world. The end of the Second Wizarding War had brought better times and surer government to everyone in Great Britain.<p>

Cho Chang, who had graduated from Hogwarts with a modest array of NEWTs (not spectacular by any means, but enough to get her into many a well-paid and mildly prestigious profession), had not suffered the persecution that many Muggle-borns and half-bloods had faced during that terrible year of 1997-1998, when Voldemort took over Britain. She was a pureblood from a good family, and had consequently kept her post as junior code breaker at the Ministry even after it was taken over by the Death Eaters.

Cho was not proud of some of the things she had witnessed during that year without any power to stop them; but as a junior code breaker she had never been forced to do anything of the kind herself. Hers had been a little pocket of safety, and she only wished that she could have been able to protect some of her Muggleborn friends from the fate that had befallen them.

It was partly this, along with the promptings of her innate sense of justice, that had made her go back to Hogwarts in the end and fight bravely on the side of the Light until Voldemort had been killed and it was all over. She had returned to the Ministry, once again as a code breaker, as Kingsley and the other Aurors who remained strove to rebuild the decimated Departments, and had risen in the ranks until she became Deputy Head of that Department.

None of which would ever make up for the friends that she had lost, and the things that she had seen.

All the same, Cho counted herself among the lucky ones. She and her family had survived the war. Peace was come again, and her children (her engagement to Michael Corner remained, and they hoped to marry as soon as they had accumulated some savings of their own) would hopefully enjoy a brighter future.

So it was with a thrill of dread that she had received her newest assignment – decode the private documents of Lucius Malfoy, who had left England for an unknown destination ten days before.

And it was with an even greater feeling of dread that she slowly came to understand, sentence by sentence, what they meant.

It hadn't taken her long to decipher the first sentence – Cho wasn't a senior code breaker for nothing – and the first word of that sentence was "_Horcrux"._

* * *

><p>Hermione always arrived early for lectures. That way, she could get a seat right at the very front, a habit she retained from her six months at a Muggle secondary school when she'd come to Australia, where to sit at the back was to be affiliated with the students that drooped and dozed during classes – or worse, whispered and doodled and passed notes.<p>

She had done well in her final exams, even though they were on subjects that she hadn't studied since she finished primary school, and she knew that if she had had more time to study for them, she would have done better. Still, she had got into the course she wanted, and that was cause for satisfaction, if not celebration.

She was abruptly shaken from her reverie when someone sat down beside her. It was Julian.

"Hi," she said, willing her voice not to shake, or otherwise betray her sudden tenseness.

"Hello, Hermione."

She floundered, unsure what to say next. There was a long pause during which they both hesitated, looking anywhere but at each other. It was a relief when the lecturer came in and the lecture began.

When the lecture was over, Julian waited for Hermione to precede him from the room, before they headed for the café. It was past morning-tea time but not quite lunchtime, and the place was deserted. There, in the corner where they had met earlier, Julian took out a number of folded sheets of paper, and spread them out on the little table.

"Letters," he said, his voice flat. It was on the tip of Hermione's tongue to ask him what they had to do with anything, but then she looked at his face, and decided not to interrupt. "They started coming around two years ago. It was then that I first felt this tattoo start to burn." He drew up his sleeve and showed his left forearm to her, branded, as she had expected, with the Dark Mark.

Hermione inspected it. She'd never seen one that closely before, except when Bellatrix had been torturing her, and then she had been in too much pain to notice much of her surroundings. A black skull and snake etched into the skin, a lifelong reminder of the side he had been on and of the man whom he had served. An involuntary shiver twitched the muscles of her spine.

"How long have you had the…tattoo?" she asked cautiously. If he would not name it as the Dark Mark, then neither would she.

"All my life, I think. Since a very small child, in any case. I thought it was just a tattoo, but then it started to do strange things."

There was no hint in his changeful eyes to betray that he was lying – but surely, he could not be telling the truth, Hermione thought. Unless his memory had been wiped – but why, and by whom? And what was he doing here, studying law in Australia? There were so many questions.

"The letters," she prompted him, as he seemed to have forgotten her presence. He gave a little start, and Hermione laughed softly. She saw him relax at the sound; he even gave her a sort of half-smile in return.

"The letters," he agreed quietly. "Read them for yourself. This is the first one."

_12/4/1998_

_My Son,_

_The time is fast approaching when your mettle will be put to the test. I trust that your plans, as I instructed, have been laid, and that when that time comes, you will stand by your parents' side, the son of a worthy father. Only remember that the mudbloods deserve no mercy. It will be a glorious slaughter!_

_May all dark powers be with you until we meet again!_

There was no signature, but Hermione was sure she knew who the writer was. The letter practically reeked of that exhilarated madness that only one person could possibly have been capable of. She tested the name on her tongue.

"Voldemort."

But…"my son"; "the son of a worthy father"…. Hermione's head was spinning, trying to figure it out. No, it couldn't be Voldemort. Voldemort had never had a wife, let alone a son….

She looked at Julian's face, his black hair, his quiet but strong features, his shadow-shifting eyes that seemed to be unfathomably deep. She had seen these same features in another face before, she realised – in the memory of a young and charismatic leader before he had become a madman, preserved in a Horcrux – the face of the young Tom Riddle.

There swept over Hermione the certainty that Lord Voldemort's son was sitting right opposite her.

She felt a distinct sensation of pure panic, followed by a strange calmness. Some sixth sense told her to keep playing his game, if game it was. She deliberately relaxed the muscles she had tensed, before handing back the letter with a smile.

He had been looking at her tensely, anxiously, but her smile seemed once again to reassure him.

"Well?" she prompted, when he didn't say anything, though his hands that had been clenched, white-knuckled, on the table, relaxed and resumed their normal colour. "Which one do I read next?"

"This letter, I think – the last letter I received. The letters stopped coming after that, and I'm afraid – "

He broke off abruptly. "You'll see."

The letter was dated two months previously. Whoever was writing these letters, then, it couldn't be Voldemort. But wait - Hermione's gaze flitted quickly over the paragraphs – the handwriting was different. It was rounder, more elegant, more...feminine.

Hermione was struck by a crazy thought that made her struggle to suppress the urge to snicker. Voldemort's wife - someone who had taken over the writing of letters after her husband's demise.

"Voldemort" and "husband", however, were two words that could hardly be said in the same breath. Hermione desperately tried to stop her lips twitching. _Stop thinking silly thoughts, _she told herself firmly.

The letter was longer than the last one, and its tone had changed to one that could only be described as threatening.

_My Son,_

_I have been getting the distinct impression from M.L. that you have forgotten that you are my son. I am coming to see you as soon as I can, and I sincerely hope that you behave with all due respect towards me. It really would grieve me to have to administer a rebuke. _

_I am alive, and I will not give up. You are not free of me, my dearest, most precious one._

_This will be the last letter from me. Do not forget – I am coming._

Hermione drew a shuddering breath, and met Julian's frightened eyes.

"You really didn't know who your father was?" she asked. It was hard to believe, but he looked so terrified and confused she could not doubt him.

"But I _knew_ my father," he said. "He died when I was fifteen. He was a good man, a clergyman. He would have been willing to send me to Hogwarts, but I wanted to stay with him. He only had me after Mum left him."

Hermione gazed at him with growing pity.

"During the Second Wizarding War, I modified my parents' memories to give them completely new identities. They didn't even know they had a daughter by the time I'd finished with them. I think you have to face the possibility that someone has done that to you."

Julian buried his face in his hands.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione reached out and touched his shoulder. "I think the real question is," she said gently, "who or what is M.L.?"

* * *

><p><em>AN. Well, there we have chapter 3! Please review and tell me what you think - constructive criticism is always welcome. _

_Also, as of February 1st, I may be unable to access for a few weeks because of internet glitches. I will continue writing, but if I do suddenly disappear, you will know why. Meanwhile, I will hopefully post another chapter or two before then, but no guarantees :P_

_Review!_


	4. A Wand Waved in Haste

Chapter 4. A Wand Waved in Haste

_ME: So I killed J.K. Rowling and stole Harry Potter. Big deal….  
><em>_DEMENTOR: Really?  
><em>_ME [looking hurt]: Of course not, would I do such a thing?_

_Proper Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter_

_A/N. I'm sorry everyone, this is a terrible chapter :( But I thought, better a terrible chapter than no chapter, even if it is a good 500 words shorter than what I was aiming for. I was really rushing when I wrote this, and it hasn't been proofread, so sorry for any typos/errors…. Just give it a go, OK? And if there are any mistakes you can point out, I'll come back and fix them_

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><p>Lucius Malfoy's normally silver-blond hair was now a nondescript colour rather like that of a Labrador cross, and instead of hanging past his shoulders in silky-smooth waves, fell shaggily into his eyes. After his unfortunate encounter with Hermione Granger, he had deemed it necessary to take certain precautions against being recognised again.<p>

However, he had left all his features as they were, even though it would have been a simple matter to alter his face as well. He was here because he needed to speak to someone, and she, at least, had to be able to recognise him.

Otherwise, he knew, he could be hexed, Obliviated and left in a pub or a dump to get himself out of his fix as best he might, all before he had the chance to explain himself.

If only she wasn't quite so…paranoid.

He had failed to find her, the previous two times he had gone looking, but this time she was there, leaning against the railing of the bridge, dressed in Muggle clothes and a hood that shrouded her face from view. It was lucky that he knew her so well – her way of standing, the little mannerism she had of absent-mindedly smoothing her eyebrow with a pencil – or he could have mistaken her for any ordinary Muggle teenager.

But she was not a Muggle, and she was certainly not teenaged. In fact, she was older than Lucius by some three and a half years.

Meet Brutellia Regina Malfoy – Lucius' sister.

Lucius reached out a cautious hand and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun round, eyes glowing like coals in the shadow of her hood. "Lucius," she said with icy surprise. "Why are you here?"

"To keep you doing something stupid," said Lucius cryptically.

Brutellia's ravaged face darkened under her hood. She gave a short, barking laugh.

"Then you were too late, brother. I killed her less than an hour ago."

Lucius' pointed face had gone bone white. "'Tellia, you idiot!"

His sister shrugged. "I did what had to be done."

"You fool!" he cried, pacing. "You could have ruined everything!"

A faint smile appeared on Brutellia's scarred lips. "Perhaps that was the plan."

* * *

><p>"Neville?"<p>

There was a stirring and shuffling of blankets in the bunk below him, and Neville's sleepy voice answered,

"Yes, what?"

"What should I do?"

"Do about what?"

"About Ron."

There was a much louder shuffling of blankets and creaking of boards as Neville sat up in surprise. "Harry, he might hear us!"

"From the living room? I doubt it. Anyhow, I've cast a silencing charm." (Ron had decided that he preferred to sleep in the living room and have his own personal space to sharing a bedroom with Harry and Neville, even though it did mean that he had to transfigure the couch into a bed every night.)

"All right. What's wrong with Ron, then?"

Harry exploded into exasperation. "Can't you see what's right in front of your nose?"

He heard Neville shift uncomfortably. "I'm guessing that you're worried about Ron's…er…." He took a deep breath. "The relationship he seems to have with…."

"Emily Linderson," finished Harry. "Exactly. I don't know if Hermione…." He was also becoming uncomfortable. _Hermione wouldn't mind, _he told himself. "Well…you know that Hermione and Ron are…well…they're dating. I…. Well…. I…. The thing is, Neville, should I tell Hermione about this other girl? Because if I do, things are bound to get really awkward really quickly…."

"…but if you don't, then things will be much more awkward when Hermione comes back to England."

"Exactly," Harry said again, falling back onto his pillow with a sigh of relief at having finally let the cat out of the bag.

Cat. Cats made him think of Hermione, and her reaction when she found out what was going on. It would not be pretty. What was Ron thinking, practically going out with another girl without telling her…?

"Oh, Merlin," he groaned, turning over and burying his face in the pillow. "What a mess."

"Uh-huh." Neville's voice had become sleepy again. "I still think you should tell her."

"Can you tell her?" Harry's voice came out in a sort of panicked squeak. The next instant, he was ashamed of himself. "No, it's all right, I should do it."

"You know, there's something else we can do before we have to write to her," said Neville, punctuating his words with a huge yawn. "I think we should talk to Ron about what a git he's being."

"I tried that, and it really didn't work too well." Harry said it to the air – for Neville had fallen asleep.

The next morning was Saturday, and Ron had an announcement to make.

"You know, mate," he said to Harry, around a mouthful of toast, "I'm not going home tomorrow. You're welcome to, though. I think Mum's more glad to see you than me, most of the time."

"Why aren't you going home?" said Harry, half suspecting the answer.

Ron waved his piece of toast airily. "Oh, I've got a date."

Sudden anger boiled up in Harry's airway, restricting his breathing so he had to force the words out. "What about Hermione?"

"Hermione?" Ron said blankly. Harry felt like strangling him.

"Hermione Granger, your _girlfriend." _

Ron began, infuriatingly, to chuckle, so that Harry had to clench his fists on the table to avoid doing something he might regret. "You don't understand, Harry – we're not like that. I'm free, and so's 'Mione. And Emily Linderson – have you seen her? She's really pretty."

"Ron – "

"And she understands everything about me – you know – everything. And she said – "

"Ron, you idiot!" Harry exploded. "Have you been eating chocolates spiked with love potion or something? Merlin's eyes! It's always the same with you – having to make sure you don't do something stupid while you're off your head thanks to some stupid _love potion!_" He was leaning over the table now, shaking Ron by the shoulders.

"Harry, calm down. You're the one that's being an idiot," interjected Neville. "There are ways to make an antidote for a Love Potion."

"I _haven't _taken a love potion!" screamed Ron, now quite as agitated as Harry. "Who are you to say that I'm tied to Hermione for the rest of my life – some know-it-all witch who's older than I am with hair like a mop!" The last words were almost incoherent, and he sprang at Harry like a tiger.

Harry had about half a second in which he knew – quite clearly, in contrast to his former anger – that something was seriously wrong with his friend; and then his head collided with the floor, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>"A wand waved in haste is sure to bring regret." The saying had been jangling around in Cho's head since that morning, when she had left for work in a huff, after she and Michael Corner had had their first argument. Of course, they had not been actually cursing each other. Cho hoped that their relationship would never turn <em>that <em>sour.

The work that awaited her when she reached the office did not improve her mood. She was now about halfway through her decoding of Lucius' private documents – and there were a lot of them. A stack of translated documents lay on the right side of her desk, while on the left side, an equally large stack had yet to be decoded.

Cho thumbed through the stack of documents she'd already decoded, snatches of passages jumping out at her.

_…__..Many of the Dark Lord's followers attempted to make Horcruxes, however only one succeeded. This eighth Horcrux, was possibly located at Malfoy Manor _(crossed out) _the Lestrange family home. _

_6/8/1999_

_Not sure that the Horcrux is still in the L.'s manor. Possibly destroyed along with the greater part of the building? (Pre-Battle of Hogwarts, '98)_

_9/8/1999_

_Grimmauld Place? _(crossed out)

_5/9/1999_

_M.S. Ravenclaw. Graduated '96 (?) Formerly B.B, Slytherin. E.L. _

_…__B.L.'s old wand? However I have been unable to find the wand, it was probably destroyed. _

_23/9/1999_

_Brutellia has indicated that she is on our side, however she is mentally unstable. To complicate matters, she is intent on killing M.L. who may be on our side. We are going to have to be careful of Millie Sonderny, she may expose us. _

_Australia. The Dark Lord's son spearheaded a Death Eater movement however he disappeared shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts. He is probably still alive._

_27/9/1999_

_I felt the Dark Mark burn today. How is this possible?_

And that, Cho thought angrily, was the root of their problems. It was as if Millie Sonderny had vanished off the face of the earth. Her colleagues had been investigating, but there was no one of that name in Wizarding Britain.

"What sort of a name even is that?" she demanded crossly of the air.

_What sort of a name even is that? _ The implications of her words struck her suddenly. An assumed name – an alias…it would all make sense. Codes within codes… "Formerly B.L."…. Brutellia… Grimmauld Place….

But after several hours of digging through files (files which she'd had to wheedle out of the grumpy witch in charge of Magical Records), no one called Brutellia, or even with the initials B.B. seemed even a remotely likely suspect. Still, she jotted the idea down for her colleagues to work on.

She continued to work through the pile on the left hand side of her desk. Mostly, she did it mindlessly – after all, it was not strictly her job to do detective work, only to decode – but then something caught her eye.

_How dead is B.B. really? Is she in possession of the Horcrux? I suspect she may have made the Horcrux, and not L. as I suspected…._

She went to see the grumpy witch again. "I need to see the files of those who died during the war."

"No, you don't," contradicted the witch. "That's not your job. I don't see why I'm supposed to satisfy your vulgar curiosity."

"You know quite well that any help I can provide towards interpreting these documents – not just decoding them – would be appreciated," snapped Cho, pushing past her.

_A whole secret organisation in Australia, headed by Voldemort's son…. I felt the Dark Mark burn today…. _If the Wizarding world had to deal with something like that as well as Death Eaters or possibly even Voldemort coming back from the dead, then they were in big trouble.

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><p><em>AN. As I said earlier, I'm not at all happy with this chapter, but hopefully it has furthered the plot a bit. I am aware that in canon Lucius doesn't have a sister - actually, I introduced her on a whim, and because I thought she might help the plot. Anyway...please review - help me figure out how to make this story better, and also, I would be interested to hear which characters you would prefer to see more of._

_Bye for now - good luck to anyone in Australia (or elsewhere) who's heading back for the new term in (yikes!) a week - and the next chapter will feature Hermione, Julian, Emily Linderson, and possibly a corpse..._

_Review!_


	5. Oblivion

Chapter 5. Oblivion

_Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_. I do own Daniel and his sister, though!_

_A/N. There is a reason why I haven't updated in so long. It's called being in Year 12. Still, I have to say it's good to be back, and I hope this chapter is okay! I certainly enjoyed writing it. _

_Also, thank you to all the people who have reviewed, followed and favourited. I really appreciated it. I particularly appreciate reviews because I feel honoured that other authors have taken the time to give me the feedback to help me improve. Dialux, SharonMckellie, whatweareafraidof, TheBlondieNextDoor, and PotatoBookworm - you have my deepest thanks, and sorry for forgetting to thank some of you when I last updated. _

_Shout out to Kami2015 for your lovely review of my other story and the follows and favourites! Much appreciated._

_Dialux - I studied Latin at school until last year. Also...I love your stories (everyone, go read Dialux's stories, they're awesome!) but I am in a similar position to you - too busy to read or review them. I really want to, though, when I have the time!_

_whatweareafraidof - I have no intention of bashing Ron, and I apologise if it seemed that way. Hopefully this chapter clears up that misunderstanding._

_PotatoBookworm - Thanks for the insight. Ron and Hermione's story isn't over, however!_

**_Warning: This chapter fully deserves its rating. The ending is quite dark, with a confronting description of death. Please don't read it if you're easily disturbed by this sort of thing!_**

_Wow, that was a massive A/N. On with the story!_

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><p><em>Obliviate….<em>

The word whispered through Ron's mind like a thousand snowflakes, numbing his anger and panic. Lulling him to oblivion.

Clear grey eyes and burnished hair curled through his mind, bleeding into the sharp edges of his memory and dissolving them, before they retreated, leaving a washed-out palette behind.

_Obliviate…._

He screamed, inside his mind, a final protest. "Emily! Stop!"

But she was not listening. She never listened.

When she withdrew from his mind for good, Ron was already unconscious, passed out on the floor next to Harry.

* * *

><p>"'ML' simply <em>has<em> to be Lucius Malfoy."

This epiphany had come to Hermione the previous night, when she was already in bed, Crookshanks purring loudly somewhere near her left ear. It had seemed so blindingly obvious at two A.M. – but now that it was morning, and Julian was seated opposite her picking holes in her logic, Hermione was beginning to doubt herself.

"But Malfoy only arrived in Australia a week or so ago, as you yourself said. I'm sorry, but I think it's just too far-fetched. And besides, I have a pretty good idea of who it was – is."

"Who?" said Hermione impatiently.

"An old girlfriend of mine. I can't believe it had slipped my mind. Her name is Melody Lee. She knew practically everything about me, so who knows what she's let slip?"

"Right," said Hermione briskly. "We need to find her."

* * *

><p>The brisk, blonde mediwitch at St. Mungo's said that Ron was the worst case of multiple spelling she had ever seen in her career.<p>

"Though I've only been a mediwitch for five years, can't you tell," she said, with a grin.

"Are you…qualified?" said Neville doubtfully. He was obviously embarrassed to be seen as questioning her competence, but one good look at Ron as he lay on the stretcher had convinced him that this was a matter of life and death. His friend had gone deathly white, and his forehead, when he felt it, was cold and clammy.

The mediwitch's hands moved constantly, casting various diagnostic spells. An even younger mediwizard, possibly a trainee, was assisting her.

"Yes, I'm fully qualified and experienced – ask anyone," she smiled, not seeming to take offence. "I understand your concern, but I wouldn't be here if I couldn't do the job. He's going to be all right, we just have to keep him in a stable condition while we figure out exactly what he was hit with."

"Right," Neville said tensely. "Sorry".

"No problem. Are you aware of the nature of any of the curses or potions he was under the influence of, apart from the Imperius?"

Neville cogitated. "Well…he had suddenly become involved with this girl…Emily Linderson…."

"You think he was on a Love Potion?"

Neville hesitated. "It's possible. He did seem to be acting a bit out of character, but I didn't think anything of it at the time. Ron's always been a bit…impetuous."

"Tell me what happened," said the mediwitch. "I know I've asked this before, but we need all the details." She gestured to the mediwizard, who produced paper and pen, holding the implement poised to scribble.

"Well… Harry and I thought that Ron had been acting a bit strangely – " Neville had gotten no further before he was interrupted by the mediwizard.

"You don't mean… _Harry Potter?" _

"Daniel, now is not the time," said the mediwitch sternly. "He's my brother," she added, "doing work experience with me. He is very trustworthy, but completely unprofessional. Mr. Longbottom, please continue."

"Sorry," Daniel apologised.

"Ron… Ron is usually so loyal to his girlfriend, that we thought it was odd that he was so smitten with this other girl. When we confronted him about it, he basically said that Hermione was out of the picture, and he got really angry. Harry kind of lost his head, and began yelling things, and Ron attacked him. I managed to pull Ron off Harry, but then he started choking…he had a sort of fit, and then he turned really pale and just lay there on the floor until emergency arrived. I…honestly, I didn't know what to do, because Harry was there as well, he'd hit his head really hard, and there was blood everywhere…."

The witch tactfully steered him back to the topic at hand. "Harry is recovering rapidly. A fractured skull is comparatively quick and easy to mend; this, however, will take more time and expertise. Still, I think you've told me all I need to know – would you rather stay here, or pay your other friend a visit?"

Neville glanced in indecision between the unconscious Ron and the door. "I think I'll go for now," he said at length. "Harry's probably awake at the moment."

The witch smiled at him reassuringly as he left. "You can get a pretty good coffee on the second floor, if you want to try it out," she called after his retreating back.

He found Harry sitting up in bed, looking slightly Turkish due to the bandages that swathed his head, and also obscured the tell-tale lightning scar on his forehead. He also looked rather disgruntled, and seemed to welcome Neville's arrival as someone to vent his exasperation to.

"Would you believe it, there was a mediwizard – an _elderly _mediwizard – who kept asking for my autograph as he cast healing spells on me! I mean, I'm grateful for him for fixing my skull, but it's just such a nightmare! I thought all the publicity would have ended after the war, but seems like it didn't. I should wear a Concealment Charm permanently…."

"Ron's in a stable condition," Neville interrupted him. "But they don't know what spells and potions he was under, except that someone had Imperiused him, and someone also probably gave him a love potion."

"No points for guessing who gave him the love potion, at any rate," Harry snorted. "That girl, Emily Linderson, has been hanging around him for ages. What surprised me was that she got any response at all, but the love potion would explain that."

"When we both thought he was just being a git," said Neville remorsefully. "I can't believe what a fool I've been."

Harry looked at him quizzically. "Stop it with the introspection," he chided. "You're making my headache worse. Speaking of which – thanks for calling St Mungo's after I passed out. I could think of better ways to die than passed out on my own kitchen floor."

"Oh. Well." Neville's round face cracked into a reluctant grin. "So can I, actually. You're welcome."

Harry acknowledged him with a slight grin. "Who Imperiused him, though? Do you reckon Emily did that as well?"

"She seemed nice, though…." Neville was doubtful. "It could have been anyone – not someone we know."

"Perhaps," said Harry. "But why Ron? Why not…me? And it all seems too coincidental, somehow."

"That he was under so many spells at once?"

"Precisely. It all seems to suggest that they were cast by the same person. I'm pretty sure we have the 'who'. The question really is, the 'how', the 'when' and the 'why'…."

* * *

><p>Melody Lee lived in Sydney, a good four hours' drive away, so it was the next weekend before they finally found time to get in Julian's car and drive there. (Hermione had never obtained her licence, let alone a car, though she could always have borrowed her parents', if she had known how to drive.)<p>

Everything about the situation was setting off alarm bells in Hermione's head – getting into the car of a man whom she had known for less than a month, and who was probably the son of the most notorious psychopath in wizarding history, to visit a woman whom she didn't even know for sure existed. She knew quite well what her parents would say, which is why she had told them that she was going to the beach with a couple of her girl friends.

"I didn't think I would have to start lying to them again quite so soon," she muttered to herself as she got into the passenger seat and closed the door.

"Pardon?" Julian seemed oddly tense and irritable. She wondered if it was simply due to the awkwardness of meeting an old flame, or whether he really thought that Melody was going to murder them or something.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's just – my parents don't exactly know where I'm going today. I told them I was going to the beach."

"Don't talk to me about parents," Julian snarled, and Hermione flinched. She stared deliberately out the window, and tried to stop the nervous trembling of her hands. Maybe this was all a huge mistake. Maybe it was now that the trust she had placed in Julian was finally going to backfire on her. She'd certainly been waiting for it to happen long enough….

They passed the rest of the drive in uncompanionable silence.

The apartment was small, closed-off and clinical-looking, the front "garden" nothing more than a conversation of brick and plaster and man-made material, into which no living, growing thing dared to poke its head.

If the exterior was any indication of the personality of the person who lived within…Hermione shuddered with sympathy for her companion, who was still steadfastly ignoring her.

Julian had told her that Melody Lee was five years older than him, coldly competent but also strangely passionate. In other words, a trap for his naïvety. She had listened to him without a word for two years as he told her, piece by piece, about his life, without ever volunteering any information in return – and it was this, in the end, that had made him suspect.

Julian had been horrified to realise that, at the end of two years, his girlfriend knew everything about him when he knew almost nothing about her. He didn't even know what she worked as, or whether her parents were also in Sydney. He had been studying at Sydney University at the time, but in his fright he had turned tail and fled, where he had simply started over again. He was older than the other undergraduates, but, as she had seen, he could blend in perfectly.

The story had been strange on so many levels that Hermione had doubted its veracity at first. But if it was a lie, it was an elaborate one. Why had he even bothered?

Well, at any rate, she was about to find out. Julian had already marched up to the front door and rung the doorbell.

There was no answer. They waited for a few minutes, then Julian pressed the button again.

"Maybe she's gone out," Hermione suggested.

Julian considered. "She can't have. That's her car." He pointed to a small white car parked on the street. "I memorised her number plate."

"Because you do that all the time, or because you were just so infatuated?" Hermione said, before she could stop herself.

"I don't know," said Julian wearily. "Do you have to ask irrelevant questions?"

_Do you have to make irrelevant, disturbing statements? _Hermione thought, but didn't say it aloud.

It was then that she realised what it was that had put her on edge ever since they arrived on Melody Lee's doorstep. It was very faint, but unmistakeable – the odour of decay. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"Julian," she said suddenly and sharply, "Do you smell anything?"

Julian sniffed. Paused. Sniffed again. Their eyes met, suddenly horrified.

"Alohomora!" Julian yelled. The spell burst open the lock, and the door swung slowly inwards. Hermione gagged and covered her mouth with her hands, staring in disbelief at the mound of clothes and decomposing flesh that lay there in the middle of the living room floor – all that remained of Melody Lee.

_"__Forgive us our trespasses." _The line from the old prayer came unbidden into Hermione's mind, and she clung to it, the only handhold, for the present, that stopped her from falling. Julian was no help, for he was on his knees on the pathway, retching onto the uncompromising tiles.

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><p><em>AN. So, what did you think? Tell me in a review! I would be particularly interested to know what you think of the pacing of this story - whether you are finding it a little rushed, or whether it's okay. Also, I'm not entirely happy with my introduction of Julian's backstory, it seems to me a bit jarring and not well-written, but I didn't really have time to go back and rewrite it. Tell me what you think, anyway._

_Next chapter: I honestly have no idea! I think we will be seeing more of Emily, though_


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